


I Think You Have a Problem With Your Brain Being Missing

by checkthemargins



Series: The One Where... [2]
Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-25
Updated: 2012-10-25
Packaged: 2017-11-17 00:33:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/545547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkthemargins/pseuds/checkthemargins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Nick has a five month limit and Louis has pneumonia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Think You Have a Problem With Your Brain Being Missing

**Author's Note:**

> All right this is officially the end of the stuff I had already written. It's very schmoopy. It's like, 50% porn, 50% pneumonia, and then another 1000% of Nick having ~feelings. My size difference kink is still very much present. *shuffles feet* Anywho! This is the second part of Nick/Louis trilogy. The final part will be "The one where Louis comes out..." and will hopefully be rather funnier than this one, which is more angsty. And, finally, the title is a line from Firefly. Oh oh, and this also assumes that the new album is coming out months later than it actually is, because it's just more convenient that way.
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** I do not own this band, or the people in it, or anything at all having to do with it. Or Nick Grimshaw. This is just for kicks. No harm intended.

**I Think You Have a Problem With Your Brain Being Missing**

The first time they had sex, Nick was _careful_.

It actually caught him by surprise, because every time he'd fantasized about getting Louis in the sack—and he spent quite a lot of time fantasizing about it in the few days between Halloween and the _Fast and the Furious_ marathon night that marked the beginning of their relationship—it had been anything but careful. He'd imagined it hot and fast and angry, keeping Louis's mouth stuffed full with either his fingers or his dick and fucking him _hard_ , past the point of being able to form words because his mouth has never been anything but trouble.

But then he'd had Louis in his bed, naked save for his glasses and so _little_ , small hands and small shoulders and hips and his spectacular bum and lovely thighs and skinny legs and small feet, and Nick's not a big guy but he practically engulfs Louis and it'd been so fucking hot but a bit overwhelming too. It was a lot to take in.

He'd taken Louis's glasses off his face, folded them carefully and set them on the bedside table and braced his body over Louis's again, forearms on either side of Louis's head and his fingers tugging lightly at Louis's hair. Louis'd been breathing heavy, flushed all the way down his lightly-furred chest and uncharacteristically still, his fingers fitted into the gaps between Nick's ribs. He'd blinked up at Nick and said, bold and unapologetic, "I haven't done this before."

Nick hadn't been surprised, because Louis'd been seventeen when he discovered he was gay and all of eighteen when he was backed into the closet, but it had still made his breath catch in his throat and this tight ball of fierce protectiveness tangle up in his chest.

So Nick was careful, from the way he pressed his tongue into Louis's mouth to the near hour-long bout of foreplay that left Louis literally begging to the way he finally pushed inside him and fucked him slow and deep and sucked possessive marks onto his neck and the way he held onto him after with a tenderness he truly hadn't been aware that he possessed.

They learned each other's bodies rather quickly after that, learned each other's kinks and fetishes and favorite positions, and even though Louis's still so small (and still so loud and jaded and pretty and selfless) that Nick sometimes worries that he'll shatter into a million pieces, they're not quite so careful with each other anymore.

"Not where my shirt won't cover it, Nicholas, _God_ ," Louis gripes, but his hand tangled in Nick's wet hair isn't exactly pulling him away.

"The whole world knows that the lot of you give each other love bites for no reason all the damn time," says Nick, mumbled against Louis's skin. "No one will question it, and you like it."

He's on his arse in the shower, leaning back against the tile wall, one knee bent just enough to give Louis something to lean back against where he's straddling Nick's lap, perfect round arse tight and so hot around his cock. There's near-scalding water pouring down around them and the vast majority of Nick's posh shampoo is spilled out all over the floor and their chests and Louis's cock between them. The scent of geranium is overwhelming. Nick groans weakly as Louis lifts up, just a bit, and Nick meets him as he falls, rocks his hips as Louis bears down. He laps the water rolling down the side of Louis's neck and rubs his fingers over Louis's rim stretched around his dick, because he likes to feel it.

The sound that drags itself out of Louis's throat makes Nick shudder, something deep and guttural and intensely sexy. He lifts his face from Louis's neck, kisses his way up his jaw and to his mouth, kisses him wet and deep and sloppy. Louis's barely even moving now, just grinding in slow circles, driving Nick _mad_. He clutches Louis's hip in a bruising grip and Louis pulls on his hair hard enough to make Nick's eyes sting. Louis breaks the kiss with a rough gasp, expression twisted in pleasure.

"God, God, fuck, Nick, we're meant to be showering, I can't believe what a needy slut you are."

"You're the one that shoved me down and mounted up!" Nick argues, voice breathier than he'd like for it to be. He'd been perfectly content just watching the water sluice down Louis's body. It'd been Louis who started all of this. And who stored condoms in the shower in the first place.

"They're expecting us. We shouldn't— _nn!_ " His mouth falls open, eyes closing and his dark wet lashes are so long and his cheeks are flushed with arousal and heat from the water and he's so _fucking beautiful_ that it's really quite disgusting.

Nick surges up, swallows Louis's yelp and licks the water off his own lips when Louis latches arms and legs around him. The shower isn't quite big enough, and Louis ends up jammed into the corner a little awkwardly by the time Nick gets him on his back, but he digs his heels into Nick's ass and clenches pointedly around him, his fingernails digging crescent moons into Nick's shoulder blades because he loves to be manhandles as much as Nick loves to manhandle him. It's slick, Nick's knees sliding on the tile floor, but finally having the leverage to _fuck_ him is so worth it. He drives into Louis again and again, light-headed and making noises he'll never admit to later. Louis tips his head back, opens his legs wider, and he's moaning and crying out loudly each time Nick nails his prostate. He reaches a small hand between them, palms over his cock, pants Nick's name over and over like a prayer and it sounds so, so good.

Watching him lose it is and otherworldly experience. Most things with Louis are an otherworldly experience (sometimes like Jurassic Park, wherein Louis is the velociraptor and Nick is the long-suffering curmudgeon sadly lacking a big enough gun), but watching him fall apart on his cock is Nick's favorite.

Louis is passionate about sex, about his body and Nick's body and pleasure and intensity and everything wrapped into intimacy. He reacts with every part of himself. His eyes clench shut and his abs contract and his back arches hard enough that Nick has to brace him with a hand on his spine lest he hurt himself. His legs tighten around Nick and his hand tightens relentlessly around his cock and his _face_ as he spills hot and wet between them, breath caught in his throat as Nick fucks him through it, gets his hand around Louis's on his dick to stroke him until he's so wrung out he's mewling.

It's after he comes down, when he's pliant and fucked out and he wets his lips and gives Nick this soft, satisfied little smile that has nothing sarcastic in it that does it for Nick. Louis threads the fingers of both hands into his hair and tugs him down. Nick thinks he's going to kiss him, but Louis's lips go to press a kiss to the sensitive skin just in front of his ear, instead, and under the spray of the shower Louis's voice is soft and hot. "C'mon, babe, let go, fuck me, fill me up, c'mon—"

And Nick swears, sinks his teeth into the mark he left on Louis's neck, jerks his hips in two more times and comes hard into the tight clench of Louis's arse, mind rushing with the idea of doing this without a condom, of filling him up just like Louis asked and maybe cleaning him up after, licking his come out of Louis's red and swollen hole. He moans into Louis's neck and falls apart.

After he can move again, Louis shoves at him until he picks himself up with a grunt and pulls out, tosses the condom away. Louis makes a face at the loss and Nick kisses him, guides Louis up with him until they're both on their knees. Louis's hair is wild from Nick's fingers and the water is forcing it back down flat to his scalp, longer pieces swooping under his eye on one side. Nick cups Louis's cheeks in both hands and makes his eyes big and round and adoring. "Angel," he coos.

Louis prods him sharply in the side. "Stop calling me that. It's really not as funny as you think it is."

Nick makes a kissy face at him and Louis shoves at his face, laughing.

By the time they get to the restaurant where they're meeting Pixie, Greg, Harry and Liam, they're half an hour late. Liam takes one look at the love bite blooming marvelously on Louis's neck and rolls his eyes, while Harry looks at them like they're a live-action romance novel. It's a strange amalgamation of their social circles. Louis's kept Liam attached to him at the hip since Liam and his girlfriend broke up months ago, and Nick's always liked Liam anyway. He's fit in kind of seamlessly. Greg, of course, is full of seams, but hilarious and Louis's number one fan and therefore one of Louis's favorite people, so spending time with him outside of work has been quite fun. 

Pixie tugs Louis down to sit between her and Liam at once, fussing over his coiffed hair. Nick takes the open seat between Liam and Harry.

"We've already ordered for you both," Greg tells them, poking his tongue out through his cheek obscenely. Everyone thinks that Greg's such a ball of sunshine and cuddles, but really he's just evil.

"What am I having?" asks Louis.

"A big helping of Grimshaw Sausage, judging by the way you're shifting in your seat, love," says Greg.

"Chicken parmesan," Liam answers, blushing fiercely. Louis smiles at him and smacks a kiss to his cheek, simultaneously flipping Greg off, and Nick stretches his arm casually across the back of Liam's chair, slouches comfortably and tries not to look too smug.

"Well," Harry says loudly, once Nick and Louis have been served their drinks. He lifts his own into the air. "To Nick and Lou, who just had sex."

The others clink their glasses together. Nick can only see Louis's glass tipping up as he takes a drink from this angle, but a few seconds later Louis's fingers tangle with his own behind Liam's chair. Nick squeezes them gently, and hides his grin with a sip of rum and coke.

 

 

The next morning, Nick stumbles out of bed around noon with only a tiny headache. Louis's not next to him, so he showers sleepily and then wanders down the hall and into the kitchen for caffeine, and stops nervously at the sight of too much steam.

"Lou, how long's this been boiling?" he asks, staring warily at the pot on the stove, which has less than three centimeters of water in it and is at a rolling boil.

"Oh, damn it!" Louis shouts from the living room. "I forgot, sorry! Probably about an hour?"

Louis is allowed to do three things in the kitchen: cook pasta from a box, put groceries away, and load and unload the dishwasher. If he does anything else it tends to end in fire. 

Zayn explained this to Nick very seriously not long after Nick and Louis started dating. Nick thought he was exaggerating, of course, but then he saw Louis destroy a microwave and nearly cause an electrical fire by leaving a stainless steel spoon in the bowl of rice he was reheating and not long after that saw him _tossing_ chunks of vegetable into a skillet almost full of near-boiling oil, which resulted in both a paper towel catching fire and Nick having to treat Louis's arms with burn cream.

"I'm going to turn it off, then," he calls back dryly, and flicks the burner off before grabbing a soda from Louis's fridge on the way out of the kitchen.

Louis's on the floor in the sitting room, legs spread. Lex is standing between them, looking up at Louis with a stuffed toy in his mouth. Louis says, "Sit," and Nick is going to laugh at him, but then the fucking dog actually _sits_ and Nick is rather offended. Louis gives the dog a command and it listens. Nick gives the dog a command and it shits in his house.

"He likes me," Louis says, scratching Lex behind the ears until Lex's back leg starts to kick and smirking up at Nick. "He likes me better than he likes you."

"You're kind of a prick, love."

"The truth hurts."

Nick settles down in his favorite chair. Considering how much personality he has, Louis's flat really is quite minimalist and bare, a lot of white. It's quite generic, like he can't be bothered to decorate. But this chair is marvelous, squishy and warm and huge and kind of worn and a truly horrific shade of red and Nick loves it. Louis pulls the toy out of Lex's mouth and tosses it toward the foyer. Lex runs off after it and Louis gets up on all fours and starts to crawl toward Nick. It's not even like he's trying to tease. He just crawls forward and settles on his knees and wraps his small hands around Nick's calves through his jeans as though it's perfectly normal.

Which it is, Nick supposes, except for the way that Louis is so completely, innately submissive and doesn't even seem to realize it. It's probably the hottest thing that Nick's ever seen or heard of. His fingers are cold and damp from holding his soda, and when he touches the pads of two of them to the hinge of Louis's jaw Louis's head tips back automatically, tongue coming out to wet his lips. Nick tugs lightly on his coiffed hair and sets his soda on the side table next to him when Louis stands up to drop gracefully onto his lap. He cups Louis's neck and strokes his thumb over his throat.

Louis dips his head and kisses him slowly, hands on Nick's shoulders and then up into his hair, fingers tugging at the curls. Nick slides a hand up under Louis's shirt and rests his palm across his spine. His hand spans the entire width of Louis's back, and suddenly Nick wants to see him naked, wants to touch his big hands to Louis everywhere.

"So why did they want to take us to dinner last night?" He asks instead. He hadn't been expecting the others to pay for the both of them. Not that he turned it down when they did. 

Louis shrugs. "I didn't want to ask and risk them changing their mind."

"Mm," says Nick, and just because he doesn't entirely trust random kind gestures from his friends, he makes a mental note to text Harry to ask later, when he doesn't have a lapful of pretty boy to play with.

Louis nuzzles at his neck, and then kisses Nick's hairline, twirling a few locks of Nick's curls around his finger.

"The boys and I are going to Hungary next week for an interview, by the way."

"By the way," Nick mimics, rolling his eyes. "You and your glamorous life, frolicking off to Hungary at a seconds notice—"

"A _week's_ notice. We found out today. I just told you a week. Pay attention, Grimshaw. Anyway, it should be a good time. Niall's already found fifteen restaurants he'd like to try."

"How long are you there?" Nick asks. Louis's skin is warm. Nick pulls him in a bit closer, rubs his hand up and down the sides of Louis's folded legs bracketing his thighs.

"Three days. Not so bad. We're performing on a morning show and then have interviews, but then we have a day to explore. So I was thinking that maybe…" Nick doesn't react in any outward way, but his insides freeze like he's been doused in cold water and something of it must show on his face, because Louis laughs and kisses his neck and breathes in his ear, "So I was thinking that maybe you should get your fill of me while you can before you're lost and alone without me for three days."

Nick grins a bit, nips sharply at Louis's bottom lip, nerves settling, calming, and it's easy to push back the part of himself that maybe freaked a bit at the thought of what Louis might have asked instead. He pulls Louis's shirt up and Louis lifts his arms to help get it off. It's tousles his hair and his skin immediately breaks out in goose pimples and Nick thumbs over one of his nipples, swallows the hiss of sound that spills out of Louis's mouth. He sweeps his palm over Louis's belly and around to his back, dips his fingers beneath the waistband and yeah, so that shower he just took was mostly wasted.

Louis's pretty much single-handedly responsible for the muscle Nick's built in his upper body since they started dating. Carrying him down the hall and tossing him onto the bed just never gets old.

 

 

The next day, Louis's in the studio with Greg. The band's tour starts in two months, and they've been bringing the boys in one at a time to talk about it and the new album. Nick's waiting around for Louis to finish up so they can go grab a late lunch before Louis has to go back in to record touch-ups. Ostensibly, he's working. He was banned from the studio with Greg because he was distracting Louis, so now he's holed up with Finchy in the conference room.

Finchy is folding blank schedule sheets into badly-done origami goats. It's fascinating on a philosophical level. Nick's been watching for almost half an hour. Finchy clears his throat. "So are you and the mister planning anything special before the lads go off on tour?"

Nick's eyes flicker from the little paper goats and up to Finchy's face. He's deep in concentration, tongue caught between his lips and brow furrowed as he tucks one corner of paper into another. "No. He's going to go see his family for a bit before they go."

"You're not tagging along?"

Nick frowns. "'Course not. It's a bit early for parent introductions."

Finchy finishes his last goat and sets them all up in a line on the table, smiling proudly. Two of them only have three legs and one of them looks more like a crumpled ball of paper. It's oddly beautiful. Finchy is planning on trying dragons next, and then cranes, like in the children's book. Nick can only tear his eyes away when his mobile buzzes irritatingly for the fourth time.

It's Harry, responding to Nick's text about dinner Saturday night. _fr you and Lou's 5 mo anniversary! xx_

And Nick thinks _Oh_ , and then, well _good_. He hasn't quite got his mind around it when there's a sharp knock on the door and Greg pokes his head in.

"Your boy did wonderful," he says, grinning. "Answered lots of horribly stupid questions with a smile on his face. Sometimes he _can_ hold his tongue."

"Oi!" says Louis, though he doesn't sound terribly offended. Nick hasn't exactly been a great influence on Louis's sass and it's shown quite a lot in recent interviews. Sarcasm is a way of life. Louis didn't take much convincing to get there. A strange and powerful kind of longing tugs at Nick's chest until he's out of his chair and walking around the table to get to Louis, who looks up at him curiously when he drops an arm around his shoulders. "All right?"

"Peachy, darling," Nick says, and kisses his cheek. "Shall we?"

"You can't just leave your shit here," Finchy tells Nick.

"Put it back in the studio for me, will you? Thanks, mate." And he leads Louis out of the conference room and toward the exit. Louis's a bit shaky and pale, his voice rougher after the interview. Nick can't believe it's been five months. He'll talk to Louis about it later. When he's feeling better. Just. Later.

 

 

The issue at hand, of course, is that Nick has a five-month dating limit.

It is, admittedly, a self-destructive defense mechanism to keep his cold black heart safe. But It is also a completely selfless and, in fact, altruistic attempt to make sure that the other party is saved from the inevitability of meeting someone else and having to break a heart somewhere down the line. Monogamy is a myth, and Nick is kind of a fickle bitch anyway, and he has absolutely no interest in being tied down for huge gaps of his life. It's exhausting and irrelevant and against his code of ethics.

 

 

He wakes up at three-seventeen in the morning to a distinct lack of warm boy wrapped octopus-like around him. He blinks at the digital numbers of his clock and muzzily gropes at the other side of the bed, which is cold and empty. It still takes actually hearing the muffled but unmistakable sound of him coughing down the hall for Nick to accept that Louis really isn't in bed anymore. He yawns and runs his fingers through his hair, pushes the covers back off of himself and reluctantly stands up and pads out into the hall, swearing when he trips over a pair of Louis's shoes in the doorway, and wincing at the sound coming from behind the closed door of the guest bedroom.

Louis sounds horrible. He's been fighting a cold for months and it's finally starting to dwindle, but while the muck is loosening in his chest he spends the majority of the time sounding like he has whooping cough or the plague or something, coughing wet and deep and talking like he's swallowed razor blades and his throat is all sliced up. He's still been forcing himself to sing through it, also, which probably isn't helping. Nick's just glad that whatever he's caught is on the way out. He lets himself in quietly just as the fit seems to wane. Louis's on his side, facing away from the door, shoulders hunched and holding a pillow to his face in a failed attempt to muffle the sound. Nick raps his knuckles lightly against the doorframe so he doesn't startle him on the way in.

" _Gnuh_ ," says Louis. He uncovers his face and turns onto his other side. His hair's all over the place. Nick can't make out much more in the dark. "Left so I wouldn' wake you."

Nick rolls his eyes, because honestly, and crawls underneath the covers with him. "C'mere, invalid."

Louis curls into him, his breathing thick and loud. He tangles their legs and knocks his chin against Nick's shoulder, stretches an arm across Nick's hips and Nick strokes his back and presses a kiss to his forehead, smoothing his hair back. Louis sighs, tension bleeding out of him. "Feel's nice."

"I can't believe I'm allowing this. You're revolting."

Louis makes an outraged sound and tries to squirm away, but Nick just laughs and squeezes him closer until he goes lax again, covering his mouth to cough low and wet twice. Nick makes a face, but if he were going to catch Louis's cold he'd have done it by now. Louis groans when it's over. "You should really go back. You have to get up in a couple of hours."

"I appreciate the consideration , love."

Louis mumbles something incoherently against Nick's collarbone and strokes his palm up his torso, small hand resting on his chest and thumb stroking over one of Nick's nipples again and again. Nick shivers a bit, hums a soft, pleased sound, presses his hand between Louis's shoulder blades and feels the congested rattle in his chest when he breathes. Louis coughs again.

"So gross," Nick whispers, and Louis slobbers all over his clavicle in retaliation, takes Nick's pinching his arse with a little squeak and no retaliation, tucks his head into Nick's neck and falls asleep, snoring like someone three times his size because of all the mucus. It's foul.

Nick really likes him quite a lot.

That's kind of the problem.

He hasn't been thinking much about his five-month limit over the last few days. Louis's been sickly and Nick is at least mature enough to admit that he doesn't _want_ to think about it. But now he's lying here in his guest room with this impossible boy drooling germs all over him and he doesn't even mind it. He doesn't mind that Louis is sick and he doesn't mind taking care of him and he doesn't mind how Louis messes his quiff up when he strokes Nick's hair and he doesn't mind early nights in watching bad films and he's become very close with Liam and Greg due to Louis and he's having a good time, and when Louis was about to ask him to go to Hungary Nick was really only put off by how not-horrified he was at the idea.

He tightens his arms around Louis, pushes his mouth into the soft tangle of his hair and breathes in deep.

Louis fucking Tomlinson has utterly eviscerated almost every rule he has for himself, and Nick's not sure how he feels about him taking his future from him as well.

He doesn't fall asleep again, and in the morning he tucks Louis in under a pile of blankets and kisses his forehead and leaves for work, and it feels a bit like goodbye.

 

 

"You're out of your bloody mind," says Pixie. They're at lunch at a rather swank restaurant, or rather they're wasting time after lunch, since their plates have already been taken. Pixie is sipping demurely at her water and judging him.

"It's in everyone's best interest," Nick explains.

"Haven't you been happy?"

"'Course I have." Nick shrugs, playing idly with the spoon in his tea. "That's beside the point. I'm only twenty-eight."

"You mean _he's_ only twenty-one, and you're _scared_."

That's just a vicious lie. "Lou can be pragmatic. He'll probably agree with me." Pixie quirks an incredulous eyebrow and Nick sighs. "Well, all right, he'll probably be a bit upset. But it's for the best all around. They'll be off on tour in a few months and he'll forget all about me. It's for the best."

"You are an absolute idiot. When are you going to do it?"

Nick clears his throat. His chest is strangely tight. He wonders if he's finally caught Louis's dreadful cold. "I'm meeting him for drinks tonight. He and his lads leave for Hungary tomorrow morning. They'll be gone for a few days."

"You should really rethink this, Nicholas," says Pixie seriously. "You've been _happy_. I feel like you're not grasping what a big deal that is."

"It's for the best," Nick says again, and Pixie kicks him under the table.

He needs to do this.

"Nick."

"Leave it love, will you?"

She sighs, but relents.

 

 

  
Louis doesn't take it well.

Not that Nick ever really thought he would.

They're at a table in the corner of a restaurant they've been to together a dozen times and in relative privacy. Louis's hands are wrapped around his teacup and his face is absolutely blank, his eyes so hard that Nick feels as though he might turn to stone. He let him down as easily as possible. Told him that he didn't think it was a good idea that they keep seeing each other and that he's been thinking about it for a while and that he thinks it'd be best for them to back off each other. It was perfectly civilized. The look on Louis's face is making Nick twitch.

"You climbed into bed with me this morning and let me cough all over you," is the first thing Louis says after almost three minutes of absolute, suffocating silence.

"Ah," Nick says, rubbing at his jaw. "I did. Yes."

"And now you're breaking up with me."

Nick tries not to let anything show on his face. Louis's voice is just as hard as his eyes. "I. Yes."

"Because you want to see other people."

"I just. I think we should. We've had fun, but—"

"Because that's what this was about for you?" Louis cuts in, some of his anger showing now in the way he narrows his eyes, the bite in his voice. "A bit of fucking _fun_?!"

"Don't be so dramatic," Nick says, shrugging. He's talking down to him and and he can't make himself stop. "No one has to get hurt here, right? We had a nice time and now it's time to move on."

Louis looks furious, but his mouth is pulling down hard at the corners and when he rubs his fingers over his lips Nick can see his hands shaking and he feels like an arsehole. Louis closes his eyes for a moment, and when he opens them again he's glaring.

"So I've wasted almost a half year on a nice time and some fun. And I just…" He trails off, and Nick wants to ask what he just, but he keeps his mouth shut. Louis's face is kind of crumpling like he's trying not to cry and Nick's entire body aches. "Yeah. _Fuck you_ , Nick."

"Lou, I'm—"

"Don't you fucking dare," is all Louis says. He's standing up, carefully controlled now. He doesn't even _look_ at Nick as he leaves. Nick sighs heavily and rubs at his eyes, feeling ill.

 

 

Nick gets wildly drunk that night with his friends. He spends three hours after with his head in the toilet when he gets home and falls asleep on the bathroom floor. By the time he's cleaned his teeth and showered the next morning, he feels worse than he can ever remember feeling before, and only checks his phone to get it over with; he's sure that Harry, at least, and probably Liam have a few choice things to say. But the only texts he has are from Henry—some rather embarrassing pictures from last night—and his mum, asking him if he can get her concert tickets.

Nick double checks, just to be sure, but there's nothing from Harry at all. No voicemails, no calls, no threatening text messages. Frowning, he drops his mobile onto his bedside table and crawls back into bed to go back to sleep, stomach turning.

He spends Saturday and Sunday out, though he doesn't drink as much. He and Pixie watch One Direction's interview in Hungary and footage from the signing that followed and Nick feels sick. Louis looks fine, though he's perhaps a bit more subdued than normal, and Harry is on him like a mother bear protecting her cub. He has his hands on Louis's shoulders or an arm around his waist or a guiding hand on the small of his back the entire time. Louis answers all of the questions he's asked very professionally, which is unusual. But then the interviewer asks him what he looks for in a girl and he says blonde, shorter than him, nice legs, excellent bum and that he avoids hipsters at all costs. Nick rolls his eyes so hard it makes a _sound_ and feels helplessly fond of him.

"You miss him," Pixie says once she's closed his laptop.

"It's only been three days," he reminds her. "Besides, it isn't about _my_ feelings. I do this for the greater good. Now he's free to scamper off and sleep around like a good young pop star should."

"The last time you saw a picture of some guy making him smile you dragged him into your bedroom and didn't come out for two days."

"I did no such thing," Nick lies. "It had nothing to do with that picture."

"It was actually quite hot," she says, ignoring him. "Very caveman."

"I am too evolved for your nonsense."

He gets up to get another drink and ignores her laughing at him all the way into his kitchen.

 

 

His show on Monday kind of sucks. He's oddly rambly and grumpy and he has nothing to look forward to later in the day. Harry hasn't answered any of his 'I know you're angry, but...' texts and it's the longest he's gone without speaking to Louis since last Halloween. He plays quite a few whiny songs in a failed attempt at catharsis and seems to have misplaced his sarcasm. He finds it again when Finchy asks him if he's okay after the show, and Nick responds so nastily that Finchy storms out of the studio, cursing Nick loudly as he goes.

When he gets home, Harry is sitting on his porch, wrapped in a jacket with his hair caught up in a beanie, coffee in hand. The look he gives Nick when Nick makes it to him is ice cold. Nick unlocks the door and lets him inside.

"How was Hungary?" he asks delicately, tossing his keys onto the coffee table. He sinks down into the couch and braces himself. Harry drops down into the chair across from him.

"It was beautiful."

"Nice," Nick says, nodding. He's like a bobble head doll. He can't seem to stop. There's a horrible four full minutes of silence where Nick just _keeps nodding_ before he clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. Harry isn't usually this _cool_ when he's angry. His emotions tend to be messier, more visible. "So, then."

Harry puts his coffee cup down on the table and rests his elbows on his knees, folding his hands. "So I didn't actually find out until yesterday. He didn't say anything, and we all knew something was wrong with him but he's pretty good at hiding how serious things are. I think he only told me and Liam because he knew that we'd be seeing you when we got back."

Nick rubs at the back of his neck. "How...um. How is he?"

Harry glares at him furiously. "How the hell do you think he is, Nick? Last week he told me he's fucking in love with you. He's just had his heart broken."

Nick scrubs a hand over his face, biting his lip, the ache in his chest threatening to swallow him up. "I didn't know," he says helplessly, voice weak.

"Would it have mattered?" Harry asks, quite unfairly. Nick sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose. He doesn't want to be having this conversation, and he wishes he didn't know, wishes that it didn't make him feel like a pretty fucking Disney princess inside just thinking about it.

But Louis is twenty-one years old. He probably falls in and out of love at the drop of a hat and he'll be fine. He'll be _fine_. Nick's sure of it. Nick remembers being twenty-one. He wouldn't have known what he actually wanted to save his life, and he didn't even have all of the options that Louis does.

"You don't get to judge me for how I feel," he tells Harry.

"See, that's the thing. If it were a lack of _feeling_ then I wouldn't be so _fucking_ mad at you, but I know you, mate. I know you really well and I know it isn't that."

"Is that what you told him?"

"No. Because that means that you're not willing to get over yourself long enough to solve whatever your issue is and be with him, and he doesn't deserve that either." Nick winces, looking at his shoes. He can't believe he's being lectured by a nineteen year old in a _Muppet Babies_ t-shirt, for God's sake. Harry makes an aggravated sound. "I swear to God, Nicholas, if this is your stupid fucking five month thing…" Nick winces involuntary and Harry gapes at him. "Oh my God, it _is_ , isn't it? You absolute tit, are you serious? Like, are you _serious_?"

"Harry."

"I can't believe what a child you are!"

Nick narrows his eyes at him. "I don't remember asking for your opinion on any of this, and I don't need to justify my choices to you."

"Unbelievable," Harry says. He's quiet for a long time, and then he slumps down in his seat and rakes his hand through his hair. "He thinks you either met someone else or you're just not into him anymore, and I'm not gonna tell him differently."

"How is he really?" Nick asks quickly, before he can even stop himself. He hasn't seen Louis in _days_ and it's absolutely pathetic how badly he feels about it.

"He's not sobbing himself to sleep at night or anything," says Harry. "He cried on Li a little when he told us, but that's about it. You know Lou. He's making jokes."

Nick breathes, deep and even, counts the beat of his pulse. "You're right. Whatever my _issues_ are, he doesn't deserve them."

Harry stares at him like he's mad. "That's not even kind of what I said."

"You know what I mean."

"I don't think _you_ know what you mean." Nick frowns, and Harry sighs loudly and stands up. "Nick, man. You're my best mate, and I'm not, like, storming out of here and never coming back, okay? I just. I need to be in Lou's corner on this, and not just because you're so deeply in the wrong here I don't even have words to describe it. I don't want to lose you, but I need a couple weeks to be mad at you."

Nick swallows, oddly touched and very miserable. He stands up too and Harry hugs him. Nick rests his chin on his shoulder. "It's for the best," he says.

"I really don't want to hit you so you should probably stop talking," says Harry.

After he's gone, Nick drinks his way through most of a bottle of wine and falls asleep on his sofa in just his underwear in the middle of the afternoon, crooning _All By Myself_ into the empty room.

 

 

Nick parties and tries to train Lex and watches all six _The Thin Man_ movies and doesn't think about Louis at all—even a little bit, especially when he finds one of his shirts and a pair of striped socks or a stupid notepad that they used to leave snarky little notes to each other on depending on who had to leave first in the morning for work.

He goes to work, and if his playlists are a little down it's only because popular music right now is _depressing_ , thanks, and when he has to host Zayn Malik's interview it's only Nick's vast amounts of maturity and ability to be the bigger man that Zayn's thinly veiled commentary on Nick's lineage are taken with good-natured laughter. It's not awkward at all. Nick's house is actually clean for the first time in months and he gets to sleep without having all the covers pulled off him in bed and there's no one coughing incessantly down the hall or onto his chest. He's perfectly content, and Louis is in the past.

Honestly.

"He needs to get up, get up, get out of your head, and fall into your arms in-stead."

"Shut up, Finchy."

 

 

Three weeks into Being Single And Loving It, Nick finds himself sitting on the floor of his bedroom at two in the morning with Louis's t-shirt in his hands, stone cold sober and only wearing a pair of jeans, even though it's freezing in his flat. 

This hasn't happened before. He dates people a lot. This sure as hell isn't the first time he's reached the five-month limit and put a swift end to things.

This is the first time the mourning period hasn't ended, though, that the relief hasn't stuck around. He hasn't even looked at anyone else in three weeks, hasn't enjoyed the sight of pretty boys at the clubs he goes to with his friends. Each and every one of them are now compared to Louis and even if they're just as pretty they're not wearing that look of thinly veiled dislike and he's completely uninterested. It shouldn't be a thing that's happening.

He lies down on his back and looks up at the lazily-whirling ceiling fan and cuddles Louis's shirt to his chest like an _idiot_ and misses him. Misses his smile and his mouth and his brattiness and the sounds he makes in bed and the way he feels against his chest and the way he sneaks into the guest room so his coughing won't wake Nick up. He misses his stupid hair and his stupid face and the way he makes Nick so _infuriated_ sometimes. He just misses him. Lex licks his cheek and offers him his plushy chew toy and Nick almost cries.

It's possible, he thinks miserably, that he made a mistake.

 

 

He walks out of the studio on a sunny Friday morning to thirty-three missed calls from Harry and forty-two missed texts, the last of which says _ANSWER UR FUCKING PHONE_. Nick frowns and dials. He hasn't talked to Harry since he dropped by after the band returned from Hungary. It only rings twice before he hangs up, because Harry's just burst through the studio's back exit, breathing hard. He looks pale and stricken and awful, tears on his cheek.

"Nick you fucking _twat_!"

"What?" Nick asks, worried. He closes the distance between them quickly, cups Harry's face in both hands. He's never seen him so upset before. "Are you all right? What's happened?"

"Give me your keys and get in the car we have to go," Harry says. His voice is hysterical, and he's shoving Nick along, plucking his keys out of his hand. Nick folds himself into the passenger seat, bewildered, and Harry's jamming the key into the ignition and starting the car before they have the doors closed.

"Harry—"

"Louis's in the hospital. He collapsed in the studio today."

Nick makes an involuntary sound in his throat, feels the blood drain out of his face. "What?"

Harry's pulling out into the street, ignoring all other traffic. Nick can't even fight past the panic enough to fear for his life. Harry rambles manically, "He's had that stupid cold for fucking _months_ and he came in today and made it like thirty minutes. He's got a really high fever and he keeps asking for you and he's delirious and he won't _calm down_ and so I came to get you so he can see you and stop freaking out when anyone gets near him."

It's a lot of information all at once. Nick tries to work through it, but he gets caught up on 'really high fever' and 'asking for you' and it's very difficult to breathe. His hands are kind of shaking and he's still gripping his mobile, white-knuckled.

"Okay," he says feebly, because he feels like he should respond and that's all he can come up with. Harry's not really listening, anyway. He sniffles loudly and Nick wants to reach over and grip his shoulder or take his hand or give him a hug or something, but his body feels numb all over.

They pull into the hospital car park a few minutes later and Harry illegally parks. Paul is already there waiting for them at the entrance, looking grim but relieved that Harry made it back in one piece.

"Is he all right?" Harry asks Paul as soon as they're close enough.

"His strength gave out, finally, so they got him into a bed," Paul says, which isn't reassuring in the least. "They were able to get him started on antibiotics. He's in intensive care."

Nick swallows past the obstruction in his throat, following a few steps behind them. A few people notice Harry—there's a lot of pointing and gawking—but they're through a set of double doors and into a room before anyone can come ask for an autograph or anything. The other lads are piled side-by-side into chairs. Liam's leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands and Niall is rubbing his back soothingly, gnawing on his own lip. Zayn's hair looks like he's been raking his fingers through it and his eyes are rimmed red. It's just a small office that they've forced several chairs into. Nick feels like an intruder.

"You," Paul says, once Harry's taken a seat on the floor in front of Zayn. He jabs a finger at Nick. "Come with me."

Nick follows. A tiny black-haired woman in pink scrubs is waiting at the entrance of the intensive care unit. She nods a quick greeting. "You're Nick?"

"Yes."

"Excellent. He's got enough fluid in his lungs to suffocate and he keeps trying to hyperventilate."

Nick might throw up on her. He feels like he should warn her, but before he can she has a tiny hand on his back and is leading him through. Nick's not big on hospitals. Or like, germs. It's too quiet and the only actual sounds are of people crying, because intensive care is rarely a good thing.

"His temperature is extraordinarily high," the woman—Dr. Watson, her nametag says, and Louis isn't here to appreciate it—tells him. "That's why we've got him in this unit."

They turn another corner, walk down another hallway nearly identical to all the others, and then stop outside a room. Nick can see Louis through the glass barrier, looking unbelievably small in the bed and squirming around like he's on fire, his hair stuck to his forehead and bruise-dark circles under his eyes, so pale he's nearly translucent. A nurse is holding his arm and trying to stick an IV needle into his hand, and Louis's looking positively mutinous and having none of it.

"He keeps pulling that out," Dr. Watson grumbles on the way through the door. "Louis, dear, look who we've found."

Nick wants to snap at her to not talk to Louis like a _child_ , but before he can Louis's huge, glassy blue eyes are on him. His breathing sounds terrible and shallow and the rough, bruised sound he makes Nick barely identifies as his name. He crosses over to the bedside before Louis topples off of it in an attempt to get to him, gets his arms around him. He's quaking against Nick's chest and he feels very frail, his body like a furnace, physically painful to the touch. Nick squeezes his eyes closed and holds him, pushing sweat-damp hair off his forehead before very gently easing him down onto the bed.

"Hey Lou," he murmurs, gripping Louis's hand, bending over him to distract him from the nurse, who successfully gets the needle back in. "Always with the dramatics, aren't you?"

Louis doesn't say anything, his breath rattling in his chest, but he's looking up at Nick like Nick's the only thing in the universe and it's sort of humbling. Louis isn't exactly a wear his heart on his sleeve kind of guy. Nick's never seen him so naked before.

He's missed him. _God_ he's missed him _so much_.

"I'm going to have you stay with him while we get x-rays of his chest," says Dr. Watson.

"All right."

The nurse places an oxygen mask over Louis's face. There're flecks of red on the inside of it. Nick inhales sharply. "Is he coughing blood?"

"Yes. He most likely has pneumonia, and a rather severe case of it. See the blue at the bed of his fingernails? He's borderline cyanotic."

Louis's still wide awake, like he's stubbornly forcing his eyes to stay open. He's shirtless and the rise and fall of his chest is too fast and too shallow. Nick rests his other hand there, can _feel_ all the gunk built up in Louis's lungs. Louis makes a quiet noise, clumsily covers Nick's hand with his own, the IV line moving with him.

"Is he. Pneumonia can be fatal. I mean, is there danger that he might..." He can't even say it.

The nurse, a nice-looking guy probably a bit older than Nick looks over his head at the doctor, who hums quietly. "He's young and has had no prior medical issues."

It answers his question. Nick feels like his world is caving in. He should've forced him to go to the doctor and get his cold seen to weeks ago. He should've done _something_.

Louis stays still through the x-rays, though the quiet, angry sound he makes when Nick pulls away for a moment to get out of the way makes Nick smile a bit. The pneumonia is confirmed immediately. Nick doesn't bother to listen anymore because he doesn't want to know. He stays with Louis, ducks his head down to speak to him softly about his dog and the show and Finchy's goddamn origami menagerie. Louis probably doesn't hear a word of it, but he stays still and quiet and resting, his eyelids heavy, his hand on top of Nick's.

After a few minutes of Nick rambling on and on about nothing, Louis makes a sudden, startled sound and starts to cough, these deep, wracking coughs that sound like they're being torn out of his chest along with most of his internal organs and he's making this terrifying gasping sounds, his shoulders shaking. The nurse rushes over and shoulders Nick out of the way to haul Louis up. Louis groans, coughs again and again like he's choking, like he can't breathe. Tears of exertion are rolling down his cheeks. The nurse pats him firmly on the back a few times, rubs in slow, firm circles and then does it all over again. Nick's shaking, arms wrapped around his middle, watching blood splatter over the inside of the breathing mask and Louis's whole body wrenching.

It seems like it lasts forever, and by the time it's over Louis's spent and Nick's eyes are wet. The nurse murmurs soothingly, guiding a weakly groaning Louis back down. He gives Nick an apologetic look when he stands back up. "Once he's asleep we'll have to make you leave, but you can stay with him until then. Dr. Watson is letting his friends know they can come see him now."

Nick just nods wordlessly, bites back a bitter comment when the guy grips his shoulder encouragingly, and takes a seat in the rolling chair next to the bed. Louis's turned onto his side and is gripping at his chest. His eyes flutter open when Nick thumbs the tears from his cheek.

"Nick," he whispers, so quiet that Nick has to put his ear nearly to Louis's mouth to hear it. His eyes are stinging a bit.

"Yeah, sweetheart," he says, touching his lips to Louis's burning forehead. Louis closes his eyes.

The boys come in a few seconds later, Liam leading the way with a protective arm around Harry, who looks miserable. Nick moves out of the way so they can get to Louis. Harry makes an unhappy sound in his throat, walking around to the other side and dragging Liam with him while Zayn and Niall take Nick's place.

"Hey Lou," Niall says, smiling a bit. He grips Louis's hand and Louis laboriously turns onto his back again, curling his fingers over Niall's. He's still not all there; the machine has his temperature at a dangerous forty degrees. But he pulls the mask off enough to smile up at his friends.

"Hey lads," he whispers. He drops the oxygen mask onto his chest and reaches up to curl his other hand in Liam's jumper and Liam smiles tremulously and smooths Louis's hair back. Harry puts the mask back over his nose and mouth and then leans in to hug him gingerly.

"Scared us," Zayn tells Louis, his arm around Niall's shoulders. Louis lets go of Niall's hand to pat lethargically at Zayn's stomach. Harry's pulled back and curled into Liam, very pale. All four of them look shaken. They're just kids.

They only stay for a few, because Louis's breathing is getting worse and he's barely able to keep his eyes open. Nick wants to say a quick goodbye to Louis after they leave, but Liam grips him by the arm after the others are out the door and tugs him toward the corner of the room. "I want a word."

He sounds angry. Liam is generally about as threatening as a puppy, but he actually looks quite murderous when he crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Nick. "Look. Lou's obviously still hung up on you and if you're able to keep him calm then you should be here, but you've done quite enough damage to him. I just want you to know that if you do anything or say anything or even look at him in a way that upsets him, the four of us _will_ kill you. And they'll never find the body."

Nick has to fight not to roll his eyes, both chagrined and endeared. Such pop stars, all of them. Nick just nods. "Noted."

Liam frowns at him darkly and then turns on his heel and leaves the room. Nick makes his way back over to the bed, where Louis's taken off the mask and turned onto his side again and is coughing weakly. Nick helps him sit up, rubs at his back like he saw the nurse do until the fit lessens. Louis is weak as a kitten, clutching at Nick's shirt with next to no strength.

"What a. What a guilt trip you must be on now, yeah?" he gasps in his wrecked voice. Nick laughs a little hysterically. Louis's mouth is on Nick's neck, his hair tickling Nick's cheek.

"Jesus, Louis."

"I don't do a-anything half-arsed."

Nick closes his eyes and holds him closer, just for a moment, before he helps him lie back down. He kisses him tenderly, even if it isn't his place to anymore. "You really don't."

Louis grins a bit, blinks heavily and then gazes up at Nick and Nick can't not say it. Just in case. Louis is going to be _fine_ but just in case he has to know, even if he won't remember it later. "Hey, Lou?"

"Mm?"

Nick traces his fingers down the sharp line of Louis's jaw. "Ending things with you had nothing to do with not loving you. Because I do. Quite a lot."

Louis's eyes are a bit wide, his mouth open. Nick's chest tightens painfully. Louis tilts his head a bit. "You'll explain later?"

Nick huffs out a laugh that _hurts_ , pushing his fingers through Louis's hair. "Yeah."

He stays until Louis falls asleep, his hand going lax in Nick's, and then he brushes his lips over Louis's knuckles and lets himself be led out of the room.

He goes back to the small office where the others are, all huddled together on the floor now, and sits in one of the chairs. Paul is making noise about going back home but Nick's not going anywhere. He can't imagine the lads are either.

"What happened, exactly?" he asks them quietly. "At the studio, I mean."

"He just dropped," Harry murmurs weakly. "Like just. Dropped. Like his strings had been cut. I mean, we could tell when he got in that he was sort of off."

"He's had that cold coming and going for like a half year now," adds Niall.

"We thought it'd just flared up a bit. He'd just been a bit sniffly through the last week, but he's been a bit of a bitch lately—"

"Thanks for that, by the way," Zayn shoots Nick a glare, and Liam goes on like he didn't say anything.

"So we didn't want to push. We made sure he was drinking plenty of fluids and getting enough rest and stuff, but..."

"We were singing," says Harry. "Me and him, our song, y'know? And he was up and it was just quiet. He was just staring. Looked out of his head. When I finally got his attention he looked at me for a second and then his legs just kind of gave out. Zayn caught him. We couldn't get him to wake up and he was just lying in Zayn's arms and he couldn't _breathe_ and it was—"

He cuts off with a strangled sort of gasp and Zayn wraps around him from behind, resting his chin on Harry's shoulder, rubbing his arm soothingly.

"We didn't know he was this sick," Niall whispers. "We never. We had no idea."

Nick runs his hands through his hair, wets his lips, eyes on the ceiling.

They spend the rest of the day there, periodically going to stand outside the window of Louis's room. Louis doesn’t wake up lucid again, and when he regains consciousness at all it's just to cough horribly, his whole body shaking. He deliriously cries out for all of them at one time or another, and eventually, late into the night, he begins to plead desperately for his mother, who left just this morning and is still on a flight to go halfway around the world with Louis's sisters on holiday in Fiji.

Nick lets himself kind of hide against Harry, grateful, at least, that Harry lets him. 

 

  
It's the longest three days of Nick's life. Louis keeps going back and forth, doing much better for a stretch of time before some kind of complication arises, either he has no reaction to the new antibiotics or he has too much of one to another round of them. His fever fluctuates, but minimally, and his body is fighting with everything it has but the pneumonia has been settling into his system for literally months and Louis can only take so much. It's stressful and terrifying every second of every minute of every hour, and watching him struggle through it is a special kind of torture. 

Just in the last eight hours, though, he's been steadily improving, and they've all mostly stopped talking, like if they try and allow positive thought in at all it'll be crushed and they won't survive. Nick's on what has to be his fortieth cup of coffee when Dr. Watson walks into the little office they've been camped out in for the last seventy-two hours with a small smile.

Nick barely hears what she says beyond "moving him out of intensive care". The boys all cheer, loudly, and there are tears and a huge group hug before a mad rush to the door to go and see Louis. Nick can't seem to move from his chair. Liam stops at the door, turns back to look at him.

"Aren't you coming?"

Nick blinks, wets his chapped lips. "Yeah. I'm, yeah. You guys first, though."

Liam frowns, grabs his arm, and drags him along.

 

 

Louis's mum is a lovely woman, and she kisses Nick's cheek on her way out of Louis's hospital room a few days later. She's only been in for a day and a half, delayed flights keeping her from her son for far longer than she approved of. She looks exhausted, but fierce and relieved as well and Nick's inordinately glad that she didn't have to see Louis at his worst earlier. Nick looks like absolute shit, himself. He hasn't even gone home like the other boys were forced to do because they had to deal with the media, so he's been sleeping in uncomfortable chairs and showering under terrible water pressure with dreadful soap and shampoo for days.

But she looks at him like he's worth something and Nick wonders what Louis's told her about him. He has no idea how to act around parents. His own only deal with him because they're forced to. Nick isn't really a very nice guy, after all.

"I have to get back to the girls," she tells him. "You're staying?"

"Yes," he answers. She leans up to kiss his cheek and Nick frowns, patting her awkwardly on the back. He must look cornered, because Louis is laughing at him when he crosses the threshold into his room after she leaves.

He looks worlds better than just days ago, but he's still very pale and exhausted looking, and he still has the cannula tube in his nose which makes anyone look on their deathbed. He's dressed in one of Nick's t-shirts and a pair of pyjama bottoms instead of a hospital gown though, and he was able to get up and walk around a bit, leaning heavily on Zayn, just this morning. He's doing better, but his lungs took a pretty thorough beating and he's going to have a bit of a recovery ahead of him.

It's nearly nine in the evening on a Saturday, and they're alone for the first time in days. Nick sinks down into the seat Louis's mum vacated and Louis quirks a judgmental eyebrow and relief sweeps through Nick so hard it makes his eyes sting. He huffs a laugh, presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

"You look terrible," Louis says, voice still weak.

"For once," Nick says, letting his hands drop and meeting Louis's tired gaze, "I've got you beat in the looks department, love."

"I look fantastic. Look at me. My hair is golden and I have big blue eyes and my new _porcelain_ skin and I'm positively—"

"Angelic?"

Louis rolls his eyes, and they look at each other, Louis grinning a bit and Nick overwhelmingly nervous until Louis reaches for him. His hand is still shaky with weakness and small in Nick's grasp. Nick inhales a tremulous breath and rubs his thumb over Louis's knuckles.

"C'mere," Louis murmurs. He turns onto his side and scoots back in the bed until his back is pressed to the rails. Nick is going to argue, but Louis's biting his bottom lip and looking so uncertain that he can hardly bear it, so he toes off his shoes and climbs carefully in next to him.

It's a tight fit, but it's more comfortable than Nick's felt in _weeks_. Louis's warm and soft, his hair damp from having it washed by his mum just a bit ago. Nick rests his arm carefully over Louis's hip and Louis curls his arms between them, tangles his fingers into Nick's t-shirt. Louis's swathed in blankets and Nick is on top of the covers, but it's the closest they've been in a long time. He bends his knees a bit, fits his arm into the gap between Louis's neck and the pillow and curls it up to touch Louis's hair.

"I'm going to get yelled at."

"Maybe," Louis rasps. He looks so exhausted, and guarded in a way he hasn't been with Nick since the very beginning. Nick hates that he's done that to him. Louis wets his dry lips. "You tried to deathbed confession me, Grimshaw."

Nick has the grace to blush, at least, which isn't something he's ever had before. 

"I just. I didn't want you dying of pneumonia thinking I'd replaced you, or something."

"But it was okay for me to think it before, when I had to live with it."

"I'm so sorry, Lou," Nick murmurs. "You have no idea how sorry I am."

"I don't want pity," Louis says, frowning darkly. "If that's what this is about then I'd rather you just—"

Nick cuts him off. "It's not. It's not like that at all. It was me being a stupid cunt. You nearly dying just made me realize it a little faster than I might've done. It had everything to do with me, sweetheart, really."

Louis looks at him appraisingly. "Here's how this is going to work. You've got five minutes, right now, to tell me why the fuck you broke up with me before you officially hit too little, too late. And I don't make any promises that you're not already there."

Nick knew it was coming, has kind of been waiting for it. Was admittedly hoping it would happen after Louis was out of the hospital. He's really fucking terrified that he's fucked this up beyond repair, and he's not sure what he'll do if he's really lost Louis. He's not sure when he became such a vital part of his life but it's happened and Nick's felt like less of a real person since he broke things off with him.

"It's not a very good excuse."

Louis hums thoughtfully, rubbing his cheek against his pillow. He digs his fingers into Nick's chest. "Humor me." Nick sighs, loudly, and rubs at one of his tired eyes. Louis taps his wrist pointedly. "You're losing time here, babe."

"All right," Nick grumbles. He takes a slow breath. "Every relationship I've ever been in since I was a kid I always shied away from the commitment part. I've always been too curious about what else is out there, what I might be missing, how the entire world is out there and settling down with one person seems ridiculous. I didn't want to get hurt and I didn't want to hurt anyone else, and once I was twenty and still felt the same way, I kind of...made myself some guidelines."

"Guidelines," Louis repeats. His voice is perfectly even and Nick can't read his expression at all. 

"Yeah. Mostly stupid stuff, but I kind of gave up on love as a whole, and decided that I wasn't fit for actual relationships. So I instituted a five month dating limit."

"Jesus Christ, Nick."

"You were going to ask me to go to Hungary with you," Nick says. He feels off kilter and wrong and desperate and he wants to make Louis _understand_ but even to his own ears it sounds weak. He was hurt before and gave up on love? It's so cliche that the hipster in Nick just wants to _scream_. "That day, after they took us out for dinner. You were going to ask me to go with you."

"Yeah," Louis murmurs. "The look on your face gave you away a bit."

"It just made me realize that we'd reached that point. You know, weekends away and going on holiday together could be a _thing_ now. And then Harry told me that the reason they took us to dinner was for our five month anniversary and I..."

"Freaked."

"You're so young," says Nick, looking helplessly into Louis's blue eyes. "You're so young and you're famous and you have your entire future ahead of you and I—"

Louis cuts him off, sounding frustrated. "But I want _you_. I want exclusive and labels and I'm _not_ wondering what else is out there because I've already found what I want. And I don't believe in wasting my fucking time. When I think about my future you're in it. So if a serious _grown-fucking-up_ relationship isn't something you want then just tell me now, because I can't do that again. It _hurt_."

Nick swallows hard. "I want it. I do. That's what I want. I'm an utter knob and I never meant to hurt you. I don't want to lose you."

"You can't just break things off when you get scared," says Louis.

"I know. I can't promise not to be an idiot again but I promise to at least talk to you about it when I am. Have I mentioned how sorry I am? I've been absolutely miserable without you and Lex misses you and my house feels empty without you in it."

Louis's expression is still carefully blank, but his lips are trembling a little and Nick can hardly bear himself. Louis takes a slow breath and slides his palm up to Nick's neck. "They're going to let me leave tomorrow. I'm causing too much chaos being here."

"Oh. Okay?" Nick says. That's not any kind of answer at all. "Are you going to Doncaster?"

"No. My mum has the girls and I don't..." 

Want anyone to see me like this, is the rest of that sentence, because as much as Louis tends to coddle everyone he's ever met he feels off-kilter when it's directed at him in any seriousness.

"Come home with me," Nick says, without permission from his brain, granted, but thinking about it doesn't make him mean it any less. "Let me take care of you."

Louis makes an offended face. "I don't need to be _taken care of_."

Normally Nick would come back with something intensely sarcastic, because clearly near death experiences are no big deal, but instead he says, "I want to. Stay with me."

Louis looks at him for a long time, so long that Nick gets a little nervous. But then he pushes weak, shaky fingers into Nick's hair and gently knocks their foreheads together. It feels like permission, and Nick's eyes are needling as he pulls Louis in as close as he can, until they're tangled together and Louis's little body is tucked into the frame of Nick's and Nick really didn't think he was ever going to get to touch him again. " _Lou_ ," he breathes, and Louis snuffles softly against his shoulder.

"You know I'm going to milk the shit out of this, right?"

Nick grins manicly, carding his fingers through Louis's damp hair. "Of course you are."

 

 

The band takes Louis to Nick's the next afternoon through the media circus, and Nick stops at Louis's to pick up some essentials. Louis's always liked Nick's flat better than his own, though it's significantly smaller, and Nick'll be going back to work earlier than Louis will, so it makes sense to stay closer to the studio. He stops by Pixie's to pick Lex up after, and gets embarrassingly weepy when she hugs him.

"You're lucky he took you back, you stupid twat," she says, but her voice is kind and she kisses his cheek. "Tell him I asked after him, will you?"

"'Course," Nick answers.

His last stop is the store, where he stocks up on soup and crackers and some of Louis's favorite sweets and lots and lots of tea, Lex rooting around in the basket, not-so-cleverly hidden under a few bags of crisps.

By the time he gets home, the other four are gone and there's a threatening note taped to Nick's front door, complete with a gory picture of a cartoonish Nick choking on what appears to be his own arm. He lets Lex in and puts the groceries away before he pads down the hall and into his bedroom. 

Louis's sitting on the edge of the bed, looking utterly exhausted, Lex already curled in his lap and pawing at his hand demanding stroking. He looks up when Nick's head hits lightly against the doorframe, and the smile that spreads across his face is unbearably sweet.

"Took me an hour to get them to go," he says, clumsily scratching behind Lex's ears.

"They love you." Nick saunters over to him, swinging his hips ridiculously to make Louis laugh, and then squats down in front of him and grips his knees. "You look knackered, love."

Louis makes a face, but then he rubs one of his eyes with his fingertips under his glasses and that doesn't really help his case. Nick squeezes his leg and he blinks down at him sleepily. "I want to shower first."

Louis probably couldn't stay on his feet long enough at this point to even make it to the bathroom, but Nick can't deny him anything. So he helps him into the bathroom and strips down himself before helping Louis out of the trousers and t-shirt he left the hospital in and then ushers him in under the spray of the shower. He's going to prop him against the wall to get soap onto a flannel, but Louis turns around and gets up onto his toes and winds his arms around Nick's neck and holds on. 

Nick closes his eyes and hugs him tight, kisses Louis's neck and temple and strokes his back, breathing in the steam surrounding them.

"Hey. You all right?"

Louis nods his head against Nick's neck, fingers playing with Nick's hair. Showers with Louis are usually pretty intense one way or another. Nick thinks Louis likes how loud the water is, like to talk underneath the sound, something private and just between them, so they've had more than a few discussions just like this, wound around each other under the fall of water with their mouths at each other's ear.

"Yeah," Louis answers, voice a little rough. "Just. Was kind of scary."

Nick frowns, tugs at Louis's hair until Louis lifts his head and Nick can see his face. The circles under his eyes are still stark against too-pale skin. "Almost dying of pneumonia?" he asks incredulously. Louis shrugs, cheeks flushing and gaze darting away and Nick laughs, less hysterical than he feels. "Yeah, baby. Was pretty fucking scary."

Louis sticks his tongue out at him, because he's a _child_ , and Nick dips his head to kiss him breathless. Louis melts into it, clutching at Nick's back and pushing up onto his toes again, opening his mouth to Nick's tongue and making a soft, hot sound in his throat. Nick strokes his back, down over the swell of his bum, and only reluctantly breaks away because breathing is something he's not going to take for granted for at least several years. He doesn't realize he's shaking until Louis smirks at him and grips his trembling hand.

"'m okay now."

Nick just nods, wordless, and hugs Louis to him again.

It takes some tricky maneuvering to get Louis clean, but they manage, and Louis's almost asleep by the time Nick gets him dried off and into a pair of boxers. He's more liquid than solid on the way back to the bedroom, mumbling Nick's name sleepily like he wants to gripe about something but can't remember what. Nick lets him tumble willingly onto the bed and crawls in after him, exhaustion so deep in his bones it's weighing him down like lead. Louis curls in close and is out in a second and Nick gets an arm around him. He barely gets the comforter up over them both before he's asleep.

 

 

He wakes up at three-seventeen in the morning to a hand in his hair and a warm, dry mouth on his neck. When he opens his eyes the bedside lamp is on and Louis's looking at him thoughtfully. Nick frowns, sleep-stupid and very comfortable.

"Watchin' me sleep? Creepy."

Louis just tilts his head a bit and settles his palm on Nick's flat belly, thumb stroking soothingly over Nick's navel. "I want you to fuck me."

Nick's lips part and he turns onto his side, untangling his hand from the blankets to flick Louis gently under the chin. "You just got out of the hospital."

"I don't care," Louis says quickly, like he was expecting the protest. "It's been a month and I missed you and I want you."

"Lou..."

"You can be _gentle_ , okay?" Louis makes a show of rolling his eyes. Nick searches his face thoughtfully, worried, the memory of Louis so ill and small and _dying_ too close to the surface. He sweeps his hand down Louis's side, over his stomach and up to his chest, feels the congestion still in Louis's lungs as he breathes. He should be strong enough to say no, but he already knows he's going to give in.

He lifts himself up, takes Louis with him when he rolls, eases Louis onto his back and kisses him. Louis's already got his boxers off, is naked against Nick, knees drawing up to bracket Nick's hips. Nick cups Louis's cheek and licks into his mouth, swallows Louis's quiet moan and reaches blindly into the bedside table for a condom and lube.

He sits up just long enough to shimmy out of his underwear, to let his eyes drag over Louis, flushed and breathing heavily, his cock pink and hard on his belly. Louis wets his lips, opens his legs and Nick makes a soft, punched-out sound and folds himself in half to press hot, open-mouthed kisses up Louis's inner thighs. Louis sighs and tangles his fingers in Nick's hair, whines when Nick wraps a lube-slick hand around the base of his cock and takes him into his mouth.

Louis's so fucking responsive, his whole body seizing up and his back arching, the sounds coming out of his mouth filthy and hot. Nick takes him all the way down, feels the head bump against the back of his throat and and slicks his hand over Louis's balls, further back to circle his index finger around Louis's hole. Louis gasps, rolls his hips up when Nick pulls back and licks at the slit. Louis's eyes are dark with want and his chest is heaving as Nick pushes one finger inside. Louis's _so tight_ , clenching around his finger.

"Nick," he growls, and Nick grins and kisses his way up Louis's torso, back to his mouth, fucking him slowly with his finger, crooking it to rub over his prostate. He laps up the sounds Louis makes when he eases in another finger, stretching him gently. He's being careful again, like the first time, so aware of the sounds Louis makes and the expression on his face—soft and needy and bossy, head thrown back, hair sticking to his face.

"Fuck me," Louis demands in a thick voice. He's rocking back onto Nick's fingers, legs drawn up for leverage. Nick nods, scrubs his fingers over Louis's prostate one more time before withdrawing. Louis's trembling with it, his skin shiny with sweat, and Nick's dick is so hard it _hurts_. Louis reaches for the condom and sits up to roll it down over him, spills lube into his hand and wraps slick fingers around Nick's cock. Nick groans low and guttural, lets his eyes close, rutting up into Louis's palm.

"Fuck, sweetheart, just..." And he gentles Louis onto his back again because he's a filthy little tease, props himself up over him. Louis lifts his hands above his head, one gripping the headboard and the other finding Nick's on the pillow next to his head. Nick presses their palms together, intertwines their fingers and Louis closes his knees around Nick's hips again.

"Not gonna break," Louis murmurs, amused, and Nick kisses him quiet, lines himself up and pushes inside, sinks in deep in one long, slow thrust that makes Louis cry out. He's always loud in bed, mouthy as hell and _fuck_ , Nick's missed him so much, missed _this_ so much. Louis feels incredible, so tight around him, and it's been _so long_ and Nick fucks into him again and again, trading wet, messy kisses, Louis's nails digging into his back.

When Louis breaks the kiss to toss his head back, squeezing Nick's hand and swallowing hard, eyes clenching closed and his expression the picture of pleasure, Nick gets a hand between them to grip Louis's wet dick, wanking him in time, driving into him harder, faster as orgasm flares up bright and so close. Louis's mouth opens and he tightens his legs around Nick's waist and comes with a soft sob, spilling hot and wet and copious between them, clenching so tightly around Nick. Nick buries his face in Louis's neck, thrusts in once, twice more and then buries himself in deep, balls drawing back and the blood rushing between his ears as his orgasm explodes through him, pleasure so intense it feels like he's _dying_.

He keeps his weight off of Louis as much as he's able, jerking through the aftershocks, and Louis squeezes his hand and rubs his back soothingly, his mouth at Nick's ear, breath hot and shuddery. Nick kisses his neck, his cheekbone, his soft, swollen mouth, and then pulls out with a soft swear.

"Okay?" he murmurs, nuzzling at Louis's cheek, lethargically taking care of the condom one-handed. He smears Louis's come over his belly, drops down onto his side and pulls Louis up overtop him. Louis pins his hands down by his head, their fingers linked, Louis's elbows digging into the mattress just inside of Nick's. His face is still flushed and he's trembling. Nick looks up at him and tries to pretend that there aren't fucking hearts in his eyes.

"Love you," Louis murmurs.

Nick feels his lips quirk into a smile. "I love you, too."

Louis smiles. "Aren't we just fucking precious?"

Nick slaps him on the arse.

Eventually, Nick gets them cleaned up as well as he can with his discarded boxers, and then tucks his knees into the backs of Louis's and spoons him, kisses his neck and rubs soothing circles over Louis's sore chest. Louis turns his head, nudges their noses together.

"Your five month limit is fucking stupid."

Nick snorts, squeezes him closer. "I know."

"I mean honestly. Why five months? What happens at five months that makes it the perfect amount of time to—"

Nick covers his mouth with one hand, and sighs long-sufferingly when Louis licks his palm. "Go to sleep, love."

"Hm," Louis says, but he quiets down, closes his eyes. Nick lets his hand drop back to his chest. "Be here when I wake up, yeah?"

Nick buries his face in the back of Louis's hair and swallows hard past the lump in his throat. "Promise."

 

 

 

THE END

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Cover - I Think You Have a Problem With Your Brain Being Missing](https://archiveofourown.org/works/549657) by [heliotropelied](https://archiveofourown.org/users/heliotropelied/pseuds/heliotropelied)




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